Full Credits

Stats & Data

August 02, 2011

Chris Kingsley's tale of a trip to the doctor's office that took a turn for the erotic did not have what it takes to make it into the pages of Penthouse. See why for yourself.

    About three weeks ago, I was in the bathroom with my girl. She was showering-naked. I was thinking about joining her after I finished taking a dump when something really interesting happened: inspecting a piece of toilet paper I had just wiped my ass with, I noticed a lot of blood. While I didn’t remember the dump to be particularly painful, you can’t argue with blood.
     “Everything okay babe? You look concerned”, my hot, naked girlfriend said to me. She rubbed soap all over her body. I stared at her tight ass-there was no blood coming out of her ass.
     “I think so. Just a bloody stool,” I told her, gazing at her naked body. “Should be fine.”
    Before I knew it, two weeks had passed, and I’d had a bloody stool every day since. I was beginning to worry the bloody shits might be a sign of colon cancer, or Chrohn’s Disease. It was also starting to affect my sex life; as cool as my girlfriend is, she gets really pissed off when I leave blood stains on the sheets. I was starting to think I should see a proctologist.
    The next day at work I ran into Cassandra, the saucy receptionist. Cassandra is smoking hot-not to mention unusually busty for an Asian woman. C cup at the least. Maybe even a D. As I passed her desk, she bent over to pick up a phone; gazing at her voluptuous breasts, I remembered that she went to a proctologist a month ago. She’d had a bad case of prolonged Diarrhea, which led to an anal fissure.
    I went to see the doctor Cassandra recommended three days later. I was sitting on the examination table when a smoking blonde walked in. She must have been six feet tall. I assumed a dumb model had walked into the wrong room. “Is this the nude photo shoot?” She would ask. “No,” I'd reply, “but don’t let me stop you from getting naked!” Hot chicks love jokes.
    Needless to say, the smoking blonde was the doctor Cassandra recommended, not a Playboy playmate! I was shocked. “Hi, I’m Dr. Williams. So Chris, what seems to be the problem?” She asked, her luscious hair covering her tight breasts, which were covered by her scrubs, which were covered in blood and fecal matter.
    “I’ve been having bloody stools for three weeks now. It really hurts when I shit….” As I listed my symptoms, the Blonde seductively bit on her pen. She was a chewer all right. I spaced out a little, imagining it wasn’t her pen she was chewing on, but my penis.
     “Chris?” She said, her mouth open in order to say words.
     “Oh. Sorry, I spaced out. What were you saying?”
    “Could you please drop your pants? I need to inspect your anal cavity.”     Drop my pants? Inspect my asshole? Ask me to get a boner why don’t you! I dropped my pants and turned around. The Blonde put on gloves made out of Latex, the same material condoms are made of. It was going to be real tough not to get a big, wicked, twisted stiffy.
    “Does that hurt?” She asked, plunging her fingers into my swollen and bloody colon. It sure did!
    “Yes,” I said.
     After staring at my anal mucosa for a while, she told me I could put my pants back on and sit down. I was relieved to win the “don’t get a boner” contest. I wondered what my prize would be. Maybe a smooth Blow Job? A roll in the hay? I also wondered what was wrong with my asshole.
     “It looks like you’ve suffered an anal fissure. They are very hard to detect. Most are only the size of a paper cut, and tend to clear themselves up. However, it appears you’ve suffered prolonged pain due to a spasming of the anal sphincter.”
    “How did that happen?” I asked, imagining her naked on the hood of my El Camaro.
     “Anal fissures are typically caused by a lack of blood flow to the anal mucosa. It also looks like the area has been infected by fecal bacteria.”
     “So what caused this do you think?”
    “It could be anything,” she said, taking a huge deep breath. “Constipation, prolonged Diarrhea, passing hard stools, anal sex…” As I imagined Dr. Williams performing anal sex on me, suddenly, Anal Fissures weren’t the only thing this doctor diagnosed me with: I had a text book case of the Boners. I wondered if she could tell?
    “Are there any cures? Will I need surgery?”
    “Not right now. I’m going to recommend some topical nitroglycerin, and some calcium channel blockers. If you want I can give you an injection of botulinum toxin into the anal sphincter. Other than that, I recommend taking a lot of warm baths…” If you’d asked me at that moment to title my autobiography, it would be “the Never-ending Boner: The Chris Kinglsey Story”, and the front page dedication would be as follows: “Dedicated to Dr. Williams, who taught me the meaning of a Boner that don’t quit”.
     “Is there anything else I can do for you?” She asked; she had no idea how erotic her question sounded to me. I wanted to tell her “yeah baby, I don’t have health insurance, let me pay you in hot beef injections.” "No thanks" I said instead. Much as I would have loved to ravage her tall body, my asshole was infected and sore. I doubt I’d be performing sex at my top capacities. Also, my back was sore from sleeping on the couch; my girlfriend was still really pissed about the bloody sheets. They were from Bed, Bath and Beyond or something.